


You're somebody else.

by Priamparamparam



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Crying, Gen, Tenth Class (Team Fortress 2), a little bit of sniper/reader, but more like a meltdown, implied Tenth class, maaaayyyyybe some anxiety attack if you squit, pretty heavy angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priamparamparam/pseuds/Priamparamparam
Summary: You and Spy steal kisses on the battlefield and passionate exchanges in unnamed hotels, but does he love you?
Relationships: RED SPY/Reader, Spy (Team Fortess 2)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	You're somebody else.

**Author's Note:**

> God bro I wrote this one-shot in like 40 minutes with no proofreading so I hope you like it LMAO,
> 
> I almost turned this in to a two-shot where the reader actually gets with Sniper instead as a way to forget Spy and then there's even more angst in the next chapter, but I decided not. If you do want me to write something like that, though, I just might.
> 
> Please hit me up at @falk-hcs on tumblr if you wanna get in contact, or just leave a comment or something.

The books and the movies told you that forbidden love was a romantic experience. A erotically painful scenario where there were pretty tears under moonlit nights, wishing for your lover. And maybe it was like that for regular people.

But not for you. Not for Mercenaries, caught in perpetual war against each other. Not for people who hated the guts of their lover. 

You and Spy were a spectacle. You hated him. You had watched him drive that damned butterfly into your companion’s backs, you watched him slaughter them, even if they respawned. Even young Scout, a man of only twenty-six, was not exempt from his knife or his pistol. While you certainly had the fair amount of knives buried in your flesh, it hurt more watching your companions get knifed. You were supposed to help protect them, help them.

And yet, something about Spy allured you. Maybe it was that he was handsome. Or he was mysterious, or he was skilled, or ant other thing from the long list of possible. As much as you hated it, you could only call what you felt towards him love. You wanted to know how he worked, you wanted to be there to kiss his knuckles and to show him every poorly stitched together wound that lascerated your heart. The desire to love him was too much. He acted like he loved you too. Acted. Spy being Spy, you had no idea who he was behind that mask of his. It didn’t cover much, but it hid his whole identity. He was hard to read, you never understood what he was.

And not knowing the man you were so deeply in love with hurt. It hurt your bones, your heart, your brain. While to most people, tender kisses were a confirmation of love, whenever Spy snuck a kiss from you in the midst of battle, you never knew what he meant by it. By the way he clasped your chin, the soft way he ran his fingers over your cheeks, you two looked like a couple deeply in love. But he was Spy. You couldn’t trust anything he said, no matter how raw his tone was. He was a master of manipulation.

It was one of the many nights you were plagued with thoughts of him. It hurt to look at anything colored red or blue. Another reminder that you couldn’t be together. This particular night, you sat out on the porch of the compound, your back against the fence as you stared through the iron fencing. The moon shone down as you curled up on the floor, tucked into a corner as the cool night air ran over your skin. 2:33 AM. God, you hated being awake right now. You were forcing yourself not to think about him, instead just staring out at the big, bright moon 

Unfortunately you left the door open behind you, and you heard approaching footsteps. Hopefully it wasn’t Medic, who would have had your head for staying up so damned late. Tensing your brow and slowly turning, you turned to stare at the person, who, by the sound of their footsteps, had stopped in the doorway.

It was sniper, still dressed in his usual outfit, although his glasses were tucked into his pocket. Dark eyes peered down at you, as he had the intelligence briefcase tucked up under his arm. You remember someone mentioning Sniper was out on a solo recon mission to pick it up. You smiled tiredly as you were happy he got it back; Miss Pauling wouldn’t have to do even more work than she did. Opening your mouth, you started to speak tiredly.

“Hey, good j-”

“Why’re you up, Sheila?”

Dumbfounded, you blinked up at the Australian with a perplexed expression. It wasn’t often Sniper acted worried about other people. He was one of the more reclusive Mercs, staying in his camper van a large portion of time, so it made sense he was very emotionally closed-off. 

“Oh, um. I just couldn’t sleep,” you replied, smiling tiredly in an attempt to ward him off. You knew if you started talking, this would go downhill fast. 

However, perceptive as always, Sniper exhaled out his nose and placed the intel down so it leaned against the doorframe before plopping down next to you. “So what’s really going on?” he asked, taking off his hat and fixing you with an intense, but well-meaning gaze. 

Sighing, you rested your elbow on your chin and propped up your face with a hand. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“About that filthy Frenchie?”

You sent him a vaguely surprised gaze, but he had a face that was all too knowing. Maybe your long stares and quick kisses weren’t totally private.

“I’ve seen it all. Don’t even try,” he warned, shaking his head slowly with a smile. Almost abashedly, you scratched the back of your neck and nodded, looking at the floor. 

“He confusing you?”

Another nod.

“I’m glad. He’s a bastard. Hard to know when he’s tellin’ the truth.”

“Yeah.”

Sniper turned to give you a long look, before tilting his head back and clasping his hands around his knees. He stayed silent, but his eyes remained on you, like he was waiting for you to continue. A silent message that he was here to listen to you. The burden of your knowledge was so great, that you took up the opportunity to just...vent. You needed it.

“It’s just that… ugh. I want to love him. I wish I could. It would be so much easier if I had fallen for our Spy. But no, I fall for that fucking bastard. The bastard who kisses me, and plays with my fucking feelings because he just can’t say things. He can’t tell me he loves me, he can’t say he means it…” You had to pause, as fat tears began to well up in your eyes. For some reason, your body began to shake and you couldn’t stop yourself. Everything felt like it was crashing down all at once, and you couldn’t control yourself.

Quickly, your sobs turned from soft hiccups to hysterical sobs. Your eyes were red and your nose ran as you kept talking, having to pause every couple of words to choke out a sob to alleviate the pressure in your throat.

“He always dances out of my hands, plays me for the fool. I’m a traitor to my own team. He’s knifed them, knifed me. We’ve all fallen to his hands. It’s a spit in my friend’s faces to even consider the possibility of me and Spy actually… you know. Being something. I know I should let go, but...I can’t get over him.”

Sniper watched you break down in silence, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted in confusion. One large hand hesitantly reached out, clasping your shoulder, before pulling you closer into a side-hug. Immediately, like a child, you curled into him, hands gripping at his vest and shirt. His arm laid over your shoulders, and his thumb ran over your shoulder.

“Sheila.”

“Mmm…?”

“Is it that you can’t get over him, or you don’t want to?”

The question caught you off-guard, and you blinked bright red eyes up at him. But you realized he may have had a point; you didn’t want to forget whatever happened between you and him. By the realization in your eyes, Sniper knew what the answer was.

Pulling away slightly, he cupped your chin, just like Spy had. “Let me remedy that,” he quietly grumbled. He stared into your eyes, waiting for you to agree or pull away. However, you decided that...maybe it was better to take his offer than sit and suffer and refuse to move on.

So you closed your eyes and leaned forward, feeling his lips connect with yours. He tasted like wine, smelled like cologne, like rum and sandalwood.

Wait...wine? Cologne? That didn’t match Mundy, the chronic coffee drinker and all around disaster of a man. You pulled away, startled, with wide eyes.

The sad smirk on Sniper’s face was a dead giveaway. In a puff of smoke, Sniper melted into the man who you hated and adored. There was a glint in his eye, he looked full of pain and almost...shame.

You were confused and enraged, angry at the gall he had to come in and play with your feelings even more. One hand raised up to give him the hardest slap of his life, but he reached out and very gently took your wrist. His hands were so loose that you could have shaken off his grip and still decked him.

“I am…” his eyes closed and he looked pained, before whispering “...very sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you this much hurt. I was just...nervous. I didn’t want the others to figure out about what you felt. I could have passed it off as a trick, while you…” he looked away, unable to even think about what could have been done to you. 

Your face was still pinched up into an enraged snarl, fat tears still streaking your cheeks. “How dare you…” you whispered, fists still balled up in the front of his designer suit. “I do love you. I love you very much. And I’m sorry. I’m...so sorry…” he whispered, looking toward the floor and tilting his head down. 

True pain pinched his features, but he sighed and gripped the bottom of his mask. Pulling it upwards, he showed you his full face, revealing dark brown hair streaked with grey around the hairline, temples, and ears. Throwing it to the side, he cupped your chin once more and continued to rub his thumb over your lower lip, chin very delicately in his hands.

“Do you forgive me, my love?


End file.
